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“Thanks, Harrison,” Reggie said, walking around the room to check for any other supplies left behind.
Toby began pushing in chairs. When Harrison was out of earshot, he looked at her, his gaze heated. “So, about last night.”
She smiled. “Yes. Last night. It was very—”
A desperate scream came from the back of the building. Before Reggie could figure out what was happening, Toby was running in that direction. The screams continued, getting more frantic with every second. Reggie raced after him, quickly realizing the horrific sound was coming from the storage closet.
“He’s trapped inside,” she said, aware Toby had already figured that out.
He pulled on the door, jerking it several times until it finally burst open. Harrison ran out, flinging himself at his father. He was pale, and tears poured down his cheeks. Even from several feet away, Reggie could see he was shaking.
“I’ve got you,” Toby told him, cradling him close. “I’ve got you, Harrison. I’m right here. I’m here. Breathe, son. Just breathe. I’m right here.”
She hovered, not sure what to do. Toby turned his head.
“Would you get our jackets?”
She nodded and hurried down the hallway. After collecting coats, scarves and gloves, she returned to the hallway. Harrison was still crying, but with less intensity. He reluctantly released his father long enough to put on his coat. Toby helped him with his gloves, then shrugged into his own gear before picking up his son and carrying him out of the building.
Reggie stood alone in the hallway, not sure what had just happened, but knowing in her gut that Harrison’s reaction to being stuck in the closet hadn’t been the ordinary concern the average eight-year-old might feel. He’d been terrified in a way that left her worried and chilled all the way down to her soul.
Chapter Twenty
Dena sat in her doctor’s waiting room, more excited than nervous about her appointment. The routine exams would be part of her life now, becoming more frequent as the baby grew inside her. She was feeling good, sleeping well, eating right, getting in plenty of walking. All the things she was supposed to be doing.
An older woman came in and gave her name to the receptionist, then took a seat close to Dena. She smiled.
“Less of a crowd today,” the woman said conversationally. “Mornings are the worst.”
“Are they? Good to know.” Until getting pregnant, Dena only saw her ob-gyn for an annual checkup. The medical practice was a busy one, with three doctors and a couple of nurse practitioners.
“Usually I’m surrounded by very pregnant women,” the other patient said with a laugh. “Just watching them trying to stand when their name is called makes me wince. I’m so glad those days are behind me. My kids are grown, with kids of their own.” Her gaze settled on Dena’s wrist. “But I see you’re just starting your journey. How far along are you?”
“What? How did you . . .” Dena glanced at the motion sickness bracelets she wore. “Oh, these.” She smiled. “Eleven weeks. I’m finally starting to feel better, but now that I’ve found these, I’m afraid to take them off.”
“A couple more weeks and you won’t need them.” She glanced at the door. “Is your husband parking the car?”
Dena held in a groan. People assuming she was married was something she was going to have to get used to. She reminded herself to keep her smile in place as she drew in a breath.
“I’m not married. I had artificial insemination. I’m having the baby on my own.”
“Oh, that’s very modern.” The other woman’s expression turned pitying. “I imagine you think you’re very brave, but don’t you worry about giving up on ever having a man in your life?”
“Why would you say that? Having a baby doesn’t mean I can’t find someone to be with.”
Although her reasons for getting pregnant in the first place had been guided by that assumption. Not that it would never happen, but that she was tired of waiting for a man to come along. She wanted children, and she’d been in a position to make that happen.
“Women with children get married all the time,” she added.
“Yes, they do, but they were married before. Your decision says you don’t need a man, and they don’t like not to be needed. No one does. You should accept the fact that you’re going to be alone forever.”
The side door opened and a nurse stepped out. “Hi, Dena. We’re ready for you.”
Dena picked up her bag and coat and followed the nurse to the examination room. She told herself that the words of some stranger shouldn’t matter at all. That she had a great life, with plenty of love and support, and the woman didn’t know her. She wasn’t giving up on love—she was being proactive. She was strong and determined, and if some guy was put off by that, then he was a fool, and she didn’t need him in her life.
Which sounded really brave, but left her feeling sad and more than a little scared about her future.
Reggie watched the “smarter” vacuum finish up in the kitchen, making notes about the weird chirping sound that it had recently started making. She’d texted Gizmo about it, but he hadn’t had many ideas, nor had he seemed all that interested in the video she’d sent. Apparently his epic holiday light show was consuming his time these days.
